


What Can Never Be

by DGCatAniSiri



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 23:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair examines the Apple, and questions possibilities with Malik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Can Never Be

Studying this Piece of Eden could drive a man mad. That was, in a sense, the purpose of the thing. By taking away a man’s ability to think for himself, could that not be called a form of madness all its own? Altaïr was tired of his work with it, but knew that if one did not examine such a thing, did not study it and attempt to uncover its secrets, should it fall into the hands of someone its power could corrupt again, it would take luck before skill to stop it. Already he’d seen that, first with Al-Mualim, then again with Abbas. 

And Altaïr knew he was not immune to the lure of the Piece of Eden. He could hear it calling to him, whispering its corruption of the creed. “Everything is permitted” did not mean that one could simply do as he wished, merely that they were not to be constrained by the laws of man. He’d learned the lesson and knew better now. The man he had been in Solomon’s Temple might have fallen prey to the vices the Piece of Eden offered. The man who had slain the conspirators, slain his own master who had become a dark and twisted reflection of the beliefs of the Order of Assassin’s, was strong enough to resist. 

Or at least he was for now.

“Altaïr?” He looked away from his writing of his journals to see Malik standing before him, lit from behind with torchlight, the sun having set hours before. Malik entered Altaïr’s work space, briefly glancing over the various materials on his desk, then taking note of the weighty look on Altaïr’s face. “You appear troubled.”

He favored his friend with a brief laugh, a sound most in the Order likely assumed he was incapable of emitting. “Of course I am troubled, friend. I have to take command of the Order from a man I saw as a father who turned out to be a traitor to everything I believed, everything he taught me, and I have this... Piece of Eden to decipher. If this is not trouble, I pity the man who trouble truly befalls.”

“A sad fate indeed. But you deflect my question, Altaïr. What troubles you?”

So many things... “If I must pick one thing in specific, it would be this blasted Piece of Eden. I wish the Templars had never discovered it.”

“Many things would be different if they had not. Al Mualim and Kadar might still be alive, the Templars would be on our doorstep, and you would still be an arrogant prideful ass. Aside from Kadar, I would consider all of those an improvement. I particularly prefer this more humble Altaïr. He is far more pleasant to be around,” Malik stated. The gentle joking was his way of trying to set Altaïr at ease, try and relieve the stress he was dealing with.

The smile it brought to Altaïr’s face was pained, unable to fully let go of his burdens. They weighed so heavily on him, it was like drowning. He looked to Malik, considering his friend.

“There is something more that troubles me. But it is something that...” He trailed off, either unwilling or unable to continue.

Malik stepped forward, taking hold of Altaïr with his single hand. “Altaïr, you are my brother in all but blood. If there is something that you need, ask it of me.”

“You may regret that offer, my friend.” Altaïr took hold of Malik’s arm. “Malik, the temptation of this Piece of Eden, this Apple, is great. As despicable as the actions Al Mualim were... I can understand why he would do such a thing. It pains me to realize that without having been forced to relearn the Creed, the tenants of our order, I would either be a thrall of Al Mualim or perhaps an even greater monster than he.” There was some irony in the fact that Al Mualim had enabled it so that Altaïr had been capable of standing up to his attempt to control his mind and been the instrument of his defeat. But the thought of turning and becoming like he had, twisting their creed to consider himself free to impose his will upon any who crossed his path... it greatly unnerved Altaïr.

“You are stronger than it, Altaïr. I have always admired your courage, your strength. With it in your hands, I have no fear of it.”

Altaïr shook his head. “You should, my friend. I...” He took a breath, as if to steady himself. “Malik, you remember those nights, when we were but boys, when we spent nights alone under the stars?” They’d had many vigils in the course of their learning, meant to teach the would-be assassins to stay awake through the night as they monitored a target, to translate that skill to the often boring work of watching a target until they were isolated enough to kill without being seen. 

“The nights spent in ‘quiet contemplation.’ I cannot help but believe that it was actually meant to get us out of the masters’ hair for a while so they could get a proper night’s sleep,” Malik said with a soft laugh. 

But there was more to it that Altaïr meant to get to. “Malik... You know what I speak of.” When young boys were left alone, young boys on the cusp of manhood, inevitably, there were moments that they shared, ones that they waited for the cover of darkness for examination and swore to never speak of when the light of day returned.

And Malik understood. “Altaïr, what you are saying... What you are speaking of...”

“Is not permitted?” Altaïr asked with a wry grin. “I know what we have been told. But learning of Al Mualim’s betrayal, I cannot help but reevaluate everything we have been told. Including... such feelings.” Altaïr waited a moment, wondering what would happen. He even wondered if Malik would kill him for expressing such thoughts.

But Malik did not move his hand from Altaïr’s shoulder, or shake off his grip. “What conclusion have you reached?”

“I haven’t. Yet. I wanted to... speak with you. Malik, my friend... my brother. I always enjoyed our vigils together. Perhaps... perhaps more than I should have. And I never stopped.” He looked to Malik, their eyes locking. “And perhaps you have not stopped either.”

For a moment, Malik was silent, staring into Altaïr’s eyes, as if looking for the answers there. “Altaïr... You know what this would be.”

“An affront to a God that what this Piece of Eden has shown us would make one believe doesn’t exist? A violation of the code that we have spent our lives in devotion to? Believe me, Malik. I have considered it. Indeed, that consideration is what prevents me from... acting on these desires. But it is why the temptation to use the Apple is so great. With it, I could create a world that would allow us to act, should we so desire.” The temptation had been there from the moment that he’d seen what Al Mualim had done with the Apple, seen how the world he was creating would bend to the wants and desires of the wielder. If he’d been the one who used it, he could, perhaps, make the world over and be free to... do as his heart begged. 

His hand slid down to the stump of Malik’s arm. He saw the automatic flinch in his closest friend’s face in reaction, but he did not pull away. “Had I still been the Altaïr whose actions caused this to happen, I would not hesitate to use the Apple in such a way.”

“I take it, though, by your words that you aren’t going to.”

“It is... difficult to resist. But I must. If I use it to change one thing... where will I stop?” That was the key difference between the Templars and the Assassins. The Assassins knew that there had to be a line, a point where men could not vault over too quickly or destroy that which made them men. The Templars wished to be gods on Earth. It could not be allowed.

Malik nodded. “It cannot be an easy decision, Altaïr. But it is the right one.” That moment said it all. They might both wish for more than they were able to give, but they knew that they could not ask it of the other.

“Perhaps, though... a single indulgence... Could it be so wrong?” Altaïr looked to Malik. He felt himself drawing closer.

And then Malik gently pushed him back. “Altaïr... My brother...” Both heard a different word. “If we give in once... What will stop us from giving in again?”

It was the burning question. Did they give in the once, knowing that they would find the temptation easier to give in to the second time, and the third, and beyond? 

For a moment, Altaïr was willing to let it happen. He and Malik could run away somewhere, beyond the Holy Land, away from the Templars and Assassins, and they could spend their lives together in happiness with one another. It would be so easy...

And yet neither would be fulfilled. They were Assassins. They had been born to the Order, they would die by its Creed. The Apple needed to be kept out of the hands of those who would misuse it. Their responsibilities demanded that they remain among the Assassins and do their duties. Their emotions could not interfere with their ability to perform their tasks. 

Reluctantly, he pulled back from Malik, letting go of him. “You are right, Malik. I wish you were not, but you are. We cannot allow ourselves even a stolen moment.” He caught Malik’s eyes again, seeing the man he loved returning his regret and sorrow at being unable to act on these desires. “Perhaps... perhaps we must keep our distance for some time. Allow the fires to exhaust themselves.”

And both knew that they weren’t likely to burn out any time soon. But it was the way that had to be.

“I... I will leave you to your work, Altaïr. I will be here if you need...” Malik trailed off, as if he were going to clarify and make a comment about how they could not be more than they were, but held it back. “...If you need anything.” 

“Thank you, Malik.” 

Altaïr was left alone, the candle flickering, reflecting off the Apple. 

It would be so easy, such a lack of difficulty. Use it, just the once, for one night, one night to be with Malik, freely, without fear of reprisals... 

“No,” he said, a simply spoken word at conversation level, and yet having the impact of a shout for him. Using the Apple could not be done. He simply could not. Using it had made Al Mualim consider himself above the Creed. He had learned his lesson. Even the greatest of Assassins could not use this without succumbing to its corruption. He could not use it, not even once.

The knowledge of what he could not have would weigh on him.


End file.
